Chapter IV:
The screeching of sirens made Sa'avia's head swim. The obnoxious noise was not helping her concussion in the least. It had most likely been triggered remotely by one of the fallen personnel she now kicked to the side as she and her crew made their way down another corridor, searching for the exit. Along the way, she had managed to recover her stolen lightsaber, having been in the possession of one of the republic officials laying dead somewhere in the maze of corridors behind them. It was probably he that had raised the red alert, which set the entire facility on the defensive.
Even now, as Darth Mijara rounded another corner, she could hear the heavy footfalls of republic troops heading her way. Her soldiers took partial cover within the decorative pillars and indents carved into the walls, while she strode forward, meeting the enemy head on as they rounded the corner, coming face to face with the glowing red blade of the dreaded Sith. They dropped like stones as each armored figure had a hole punched through their flesh by a precise blaster shot, or falling victim to a searing slash through their abdomen; Six more to add to the still smoking pile of corpses now lining the hallways.
Although she had recovered the strength to function, she could sense her body quickly failing. She was stumbling too much to hide, and she feared her troops would loose moral if they saw their leader fall. Her senses were going wild, and it was difficult to focus them in a specific direction. The crew members did well to keep her well defended in her injured state, as well as guiding her to the best of their remembrance towards the exit.
—«•»—
...Sa'avia...
She turned with a start. She hadn't heard her own birth name uttered in so long. It sounded foreign, alien, and strange, yet vaguely familiar and nostalgic. Turning to face the voice that seemed to call out to her from such a long distance, she met the ghastly face of-
"Hhh!" Once again, Darth Mijara woke in a cold sweat. She didn't ever think she had such perfect recollection of her mother's face. Even as she recalled the short dream, the details of the face became blurry and indistinct. But she remembered the shock of how definitive it had been, before all detail was scrubbed away. Replacing the fading memory was the very clear and certainly real face of her master, Lord Mortalitous, staring studiously in at her as she floated restfully in a full body bacta-tank. The mask feeding her oxygen released a myriad of bubbles as she took a deep breath and exhaled, letting the remnants of the dream be washed away. Her master never took his eyes off her. They pierced her to the very core, making her feel more naked than she already was as she floated in the healing solution.
Though he never allowed her to penetrated his mind, he had left a very narrow and shallow channel open to her. He was waiting for a message. She obediently delivered a telepathic assurance into his consciousness, a simple feeling of strength to reassure him that she was still strong, though his apprentice had taken quite a beating. Not that he so much was concerned for her well being; he just needed to keep tabs on all his assets. That was the essence of a true military tactician. That was the epitome of power; affection was an exploitable weakness. Receiving her reassurance, he immediately and coolly removed from the medical bay.
In truth, Sa'avia felt very weak. She didn't quite remember all the events that had taken place that led up to her back on board the command ship. There had been a very rough ride within the same cargo transport that both delivered her onto the planet's surface as well as aided in the attempt to blow her off the face of it. She would like nothing more than to scrap the entire thing for no reason other than to purge the galaxy of its existence. She had remained partially conscious up until the ship entered the hanger, and after that, all was a blank. The loyalist crew members had received their reward, a healthy sum of money plus minor promotions, and the spies that had given such false information leading to her assassination attempt also reaped their own reward at the end of a firing line. In the end, General Nowell'nd was no more than a byword for any anyone holding future thoughts of treachery.
—«•»—
"Is there any other medical service I may provide," the droid monotonously intoned.
"You are dismissed," came the reply. Standing up and walking now without assistance, using the renewed strength of her legs, Darth Mijara made her way immediately into her chambers and removed her clothes, addressing the healing work of the droid herself. A fresh set of scars lined her face and made her gaze that much more intense. Lifting up her arm, she ran a free hand below and to the side of her left breast, checking the three ribs that had been fractured. Another large scar ran perpendicular to the healed ribs where a chunk of rock had torn her flesh. Several other places had similar scars and bruises, but she felt more than capable of returning a hundred fold the wounds she had endured upon the enemy that had caused such marring to her body. Donning a fresh outfit over the tattered old one, she went at once to the bridge to give a fuller briefing to her precious master.
The pneumatic door hissed as it opened to allow her admittance to her master's presence. Lord Mortalitous, standing in his familiar place on the central dais, facing the spacious window looking out over the ship as a whole as well as the marvelous expanse of open space. Darth Mijara strode to take her rightful place at the side of her master, but stopped short as he turned rigidly to meet her with contempt. In a split second of reasoning, she dropped low to the ground in a kneeling gesture of obedience and submissiveness. She had not sensed his kindled anger while she was within the bacta-tank, and now she felt utterly clueless as to how best to navigate the situation.
"I have trusted you in all things these many cycles, and now you give me reason to forget the entirety of it, lay aside my better judgement, and to strike you down this very moment. Darth Mijara, you have proven most disappointing to me." Her lord's words seemed to knock the wind out of her, and the pain in her ribs almost seemed to flare up because of them. What had she done to so displease her master?
"Rise, apprentice, and speak," he commanded. But words failed her. What could she possibly say? Probing his mind for the matter was unfruitful and suicidal; for his mind was a locked vault, and if he caught her doing so he surely would not hesitate to cut her to pieces as he currently was resisting the urge to do so. There was no use in speaking with a mind as swallowed in trepidation as her's. Therefore, she remained silent, and prepared to endure a much harsher degree of decimation than the explosives could ever hope to match. Silence trailed on for only seconds, but within the small time enough tension had built up in the bridge as to cease all small chatter and communications amongst all personnel on board. He had given her strict command to speak, so she swallowed, and raised a very careful voice, keeping her eyes low and not raising from her kneeling position, no matter how bad her muscles started to cramp.
"Master... I have done all that you have required of m-"
"Perhaps I have not required, but I have most certainly expected outcomes better than what you have demonstrated this last!" She shrank lower into her bow and deeper into herself.
"My lord, it was a set up and I was ambushed," she attempted to excuse herself to no avail.
"Had you not the sense to discover such a common tactic as a tracking beacon placed on your person? I have never been so embarrassed to hear of a Sith falling prey to a simple team of five pathetic soldiers! And to think that such a Sith was one of my own upbringing! I have turned a blind eye to the crew members' secrecy because they had no other option and because of their valiant display of discipline in combat; all the while you were seen stumbling around, and faltering in such a crucial time. Did you think I would not hear of such weakness? Did you honestly deceive yourself in thinking that that very action would not reach the ears of the council!? I should hope to think not, but I see that there is not much trust I can place in your competence, nor your abilities, anymore!"
Sa'avia was crushed beneath the brutal chastisement and cruel criticism. Her anger flared within, the Dark Side of the Force bringing power and hatred to her entire being. At the same time, the very same energy emanated from a much stronger source towering over her head. To lash out in her shame, humiliation, and anger would bring about her destruction that much more swiftly. How he had managed to contain such power within his frame seemed an impossibility to her. Her borders were already swelling to the point of expulsion, and she prayed that the abuse would be suspended so that such would not come to blows.
The fear of death was once again making its sickly slither into her heart, despite her attempts to force it out. She could feel the wrath and hatred directed towards her, and she could almost taste the sensation of her master's lightsaber searing her torso in twain, her greatest fear swallowing her up in itself. Despite her loyalty to her lord, Sa'avia would fight with every tooth and nail to keep the dreaded outcome from unfolding, even if it meant bringing it upon him. Just as soon as she felt as if the building tension was about to break into catastrophe, her mind already poised to attack, the dark cloud suddenly dissipated with the voice of Lord Mortalitous returning to its familiar stone like coolness.
"Out of shear respect to your previous successes, I am granting you this very merciful second chance. Such a privilege is hard earned, so expect to work extra diligently to come back into good graces." Good news, but her imperceptible sigh of relief was an early rejoice. "Thirteen hours in the pit, immediately."
—«•»—
Author's Note: My goodness, that was...interesting. I had a few ideas on how this chapter was going to turn out, from going straight into the crucial plot detail I've been procrastinating for so long, to Darth Mijara being "retrained," to... Yikes! We won't go there. But anyway, I have one more chapter to go before I feel like I can include this plot detail I've been trying to insert since chapter 2 (get on it, I know). Onward and outward, then!
